


Canvas for the lost, Canvas for the Lonely

by koshinwonie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 20:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18972523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koshinwonie/pseuds/koshinwonie
Summary: Ooh Sehun didn't deserve to be happy. Park Chanyeol didn't want to be happy.





	Canvas for the lost, Canvas for the Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fanfiction, it's not my favourite work but I tried to edit it as best as I could. Enjoy!

First encounters.

 

"Thank-you for coming tonight we've prepared a lot for this, please enjoy the show."  
As the room erupts in cheers, an amplified whistle can be heard darting from ear to ear, and even if their drunken states are the cause of such a significant round of approval, it goes largely unnoticed. Unless you are lost enough to search for such a thing. Ooh Sehun witnesses the change in the atmosphere whilst his chest tightens and his mind seems to be put on a loop, yet opts to merely lean against the furthest wall and take in the sight before him. Watching as the crowd's coherency fades and with it, the lead singers seemingly joyous expression. This happens most nights, the lights would dance around the secluded room, reflecting the energy from those underneath yet the violet haired singer stays almost glued to his spot. Sehun has tried to catch the performers' eyes several times every Thursday night,  tries to show him his presence for reasons he himself does not know, and sometimes he thinks he sees a hint of hope whenever the violet man's eyes scan in his general direction. Ooh Sehun also tends to think that man seems lost, as if he's searching for someone but he doesn't know only that he wants  - no - needs them. 

 

But Ooh Sehun tends to think a lot of things.

 

His eyes dart away from the stage and down towards the drink glued between his hands while he attempts to focus all his attention towards distinguishing the faint smell of familiarity in-between a mix of sweat, whiskey and regrettable decisions. It's almost hypnotising, watching individual's purposely run away from their daily lives and try to escape reality by morphing into someone different, someone who doesn't think about their actions or the effects, it's almost as if they think one night will change everything. Ooh Sehun wishes he knew better; Ooh Sehun should know better. 

 

So why am I here every night?

 

If this was reality, the answer would be simple. There is always that one person who catches his eye as he battles between drinking from the 'coffee solves life' mug and throwing it out because hangovers are so two years ago. There's always that one person who makes Ooh Sehun take a step forward from his spot of familiarity, who dares him to dabble with fate and whose face declared him insane. There's always that one person that reminds him of whom he wished to be.

 

By the time he looks up at the stage again, it's empty excluding a single microphone still controlling the room. It's almost like an unspoken rule, when the singer leaves, reality takes its place. Snapping Sehun awake from his violet haired escape and leaving him almost unwillingly ready to face the harsh winter air breeze. Almost.

 

     "I see you are still a lightweight my little Violet Boy stalker," 

 

Baekhyun was always appearing in places in which his presence was, let's just say not expected. The small yet somehow lanky man-boy is proof that Ooh Sehun still can't decipher between reality and the world his mind wished to live in. He can't quite remember whether he resents Baekhyun for that or not; in such an intoxicating environment, it's easy to misplace ones misconceptions. From the time it takes him to look up at Baekhyun, his original scowl has been replaced by a small smile, one you would miss if you weren't-

 

       "Ooh Sehun, earth to Sehun, he wasn't that memorizing tonight was he?"

 

It's moments like these that keep him grounded, or so has been drilled relentlessly into his mind over the years. Having to interact rather than observe. One would much rather face his family issues, yet here he is talking to a possibly imaginary character in a building that most definitely doesn't meet twenty-first-century building regulations.

 

        "Like you can talk, I've seen you stare at that new bartenders ass to the degree that it's starting to feel like sexual assault,"

 

A chuckle. A smirk. A deep breath. Every night, the same process, the same facade.

 

        "If you aren't careful, I'll tell you your lover boys' name,"

 

With the empty threat and an unmissable wink, the man-boy retreats back into the decreasing mass of people. Most likely to resume hopelessly staring at the dimpled face unicorn clearing up leftover drinks and avoiding  the unnerving amount of sick that starts to lay claim once the crowds disperse.

 

It's only then, when he's truly alone, that he notices it. The eyes boring into the back of his head, if looks could kill, his wish would have been answered. Does he turn around? He knows, or has a fair guess, of who it is, who he's been longing to see. So why can't he turn round? It's as if he has been programmed to walk away from happiness, the happiness he doesn't deserve. What's the use in fighting the urge? He never wins, he never wants to win. So

 

     "Ooh Sehun, don't walk away again. Ooh Sehun, don't walk away I need you, Please, Ooh-"

 

Before the breaking deep voice has time to finish his beg, Ooh Sehun is welcoming the unusually brisk winter breeze, arms wide as nature's daggers secure a place over his body. 

 

Ooh Sehun does not deserve happiness.

 

It's only when there's no more tiles on his ceiling to count that he allows himself to think back to earlier that morning. He emerges himself in the memory, soaking in every word the violet man said, listening diligently to the way his voice shakes and trembles as they fall out. The taste of the thought is bitter, and he braces himself for what is about to come. Ooh Sehun will walk away for the last time today.

 

 "Chanyeol?"

 

<

Second encounter 

 

Chanyeol wakes up tired. Tired and Hungry. It has been three nights since his last encounter with Sehun. Three nights for three packets of fags, three nights for two bottles of vodka. Three nights for replacing and trying to destroy a dying hope. But Chanyeol is also hungry, starving, so this existential crisis must be put on hold in order to focus what's left of his brain power on hunting down anything even slightly edible in his way too barron of a wasteland. As he reaches for the only slightly less moldy piece of bread and mentally prepares himself to die of food poisoning — it all goes black.

 

\--------------------

 

"Sehunnie please if you want a non-toxic, non-poisonous, edible omelet I am going to need to eyes,"

 

Chanyeol all but giggles out desperately hoping he doesn't look like as much of a middle schooler as he feels. Sehun happily denies his request, standing  on his tiptoes, pressing up against his back with more force; one hand sneaking up to ruffle his freshly dyed hair, one hand covering his eyes. Chanyeol never could get over just how large Sehun's  hands were even if he was one of the lankiest twerps to ever grace his presence (Sehuns own words). "But Hyung, it was meant to be my turn to cook for date night! You make all the meal please let me do something special for you,"   With a pair of freshly chapped lips pecking his cheeks, Chanyeol stumbled backwards with red ears and a bleeding heart, and readied himself for whatever cute disaster was about to be served.

 

\-----------------

 

Chanyeol had spent months perfecting the art of forgetting and years forging  the skill of distancing.  What gave such an insignificant brainwave the right to throw him right back to where he started?

 

It's not all bad, Chanyeol thinks as he leans back against the only clean counter. He's graduating this year with a 2:1, his band are gaining more popularity and his medication is being increased. It's not all bad, but sometimes, sometimes that doesn't matter.

 

It takes Chanyeol another five nights to agree (aka to be bribed) to play at the same nightclub he had done just over a week ago. It paid well, the atmosphere was almost as hysterical as it was intoxicating and it also gave him a chance to hunt down Jongdae's reason for begging him to go back there (a little birdy told him Jongdae meets up with one of the bartenders when the band leaves, but that little birdy also threatened to cut his balls of if he said a word to Jongdae so the investigation was kept private). Oh and the free booze was definitely a plus. So what choice did he really have? 

 

This how Chanyeol ends up in a box like room squirming unhelpfully as Wu Fan attempts to smother his face in makeup.  
"I cannot believe how innocent you look even with a body that's probably more Mandy than it is water,"   
Really the makeup excuse was just that. An excuse to get up close and personal and insult Chanyeol to death. With Jongdae laughing comically beside him at a pick up line Jongin said he had 'tried to woo Manger Seok over with. Then there was Kyungsoo practically screaming that they were on in thirty seconds and "Why the hell has no one got me a bloody drink yet - oh god I'm turning British. Jongdae bring out whiskey, if I'm going European I'm going Irish!"

 

This was nice, Chanyeol considered, this was grounding. Chanyeol needed grounding before his mind flew off into a hell he wasn't sure he could escape from again. 

 

And that is how he is now  being scorched by lights and high of fleeting glances, only half attempting to keep his rhythm as his eyes drag themselves through the crowd. He’s looking again. Why does he keep looking for him? Please stop looking before you can't find your way back. Was that his voice? Or maybe it was Jongdae skipping to the verse, but with a dazed mind who is he to care. He's lost, Chanyeol knows he's lost but here he is, still looking for his heart in a room filled with shattered ones.

 

When the set is over they all drift their separate ways, some staying to enjoy the thrill of girls screaming their names while others escape into the night doing god knows what. They don't ask, they never do. So Chanyeol is only half surprised when he sees Jongdae slip behind the door with a dusty 'employees only' sign attempting to fall off and when Kyungsoo leaves with three pure looking girls attached to his hip. Or when Wufan all but collapses at the bar and a pair of ghostly eyes turn to meet his.

 

What does Chanyeol do with his raising fame?

 

He's drunk, Chanyeol isn't stupid enough to not notice, but he clearly is stupid enough to allow the man to walk up to him; a hand outstretched tracing his facial features in such a familiar way it makes his stomach turn. That's it, he's going to be sick. He's actually going to throw up oh dear go -  "You look good off of your pretty head Hyung but I thought I was meant to be the crazy one here?" 

 

It was phrased as a question but sounded much more like a statement, and that alone should've been enough warning, run. The voice sounds deeper though, deeper than his memory tells him, raspier and more unfocused. There's no way he's able to move now.

 

      "I didn't mean to run away last time Hyung. Let's go grab a drink and catch up, Ok?" 

 

He sounds almost bitter, how can someone be light and bitter at the same time? This is all too much, way too much for Chanyeol to process. But there's no escape, sure the doors are wide open and there is a crowd to flee into if needs be but this feeling, this empty longing, empty craving will always be there. You can run but you can't hide, you can cry but you won't die.

 

In an attempt to not faint Chanyeol resorts to staring, mapping out the others face. Grounding. Sehun's face is paler than last week, the bags under his eyes illuminating his face and his body echoing a fragile strength, a promise. It's hard to imagine the boy in front of him as weak or a deathly poison even if it is what he has been trained to believe. His daily dose of poison everyone used to say, is that why you stay? The grounding seems to be working because now, Chanyeol doesn't feel like throwing up as much as he feels like running a mile and never looking back and wow great progress there, really getting somewhere aren't we! 

 

Just as he is about to respond to his own nagging, it's obvious his emotions have once again let him down and are now dancing mockingly across his face if the look of Sehun's already pale complexion draining of every last ounce of colour is anything to go by. He's going to run, he's going to be the first the run and Chanyeol can stay and be alone. He's always alone.

 

  "You called out my name Hyung. I'm sorry I'm so lonely-I'm sorry this time it wasn't you it's all-"

 

 A voice break. A sigh. A plastered smile.  

 

  "It's all what it is but I'm not sure what it ever was in the first place and I'm just so confused Hyung, where did we go wrong?"

 

\--------

 

A very intoxicated Sehun struts up to a veryintoxicated Chanyeol. No words are exchanged, no sparks go flying, the party next to them doesn't stop and the world keeps spinning, but at that moment something else changes. Chanyeol could feel it as Sehun claimed his mouth, memorizing every chasm and dent,  claiming his prey with teeth attacking his bottom lip. Chanyeol could still feel it as he was pressed up against a wall, one hand grasping black hair to stable himself and the other roaming up the bruised sides of the boy scratching his way down Chanyeol's chest. He could feel it as he watched the others face grew prouder as he witnessed Chanyeol whimper at the gentle prodding of his thighs or by watching his back arch in-humanely whilst he shouts his inner abuse until the very last come down, breaking Chanyeol with pleasure. Chanyeol felt it when he woke up twenty minutes later, naked and shivering in an unknown room. Alone. It was a feeling of sheer completeness, sheer life with a boy who was a canvas of the saddest blueing paintings he had ever seen and no name. 

 

He didn't see Blue boy again for another eight weeks, only meeting by chance at a café in the middle of a storm. The boy introduced himself as 'Sehun the Lonely, at your service' with an over-exaggerated bow and a jaw scattered in purple polka dots whilst Chanyeol stood there in complete awe before remembering why he ran into the cafe in the first place, "-um hi I'm, I'm Chanyeol the lost."  (he may have given a slight courtesy)

 

For the next several months, they come to an unspoken agreement. Sehun would come over to Chanyeol's apartment ("...mine is too neat it would make you feel terrible Hyung, I'm doing you a favor.") whenever he was sad and Chanyeol would open the door whenever he was empty. Sehun would fuck Chanyeol until he collapsed and Chanyeol would scream with a tear stained face until he couldn't speak and then sat counting the new paintings sketched onto Sehun. They never talked about it. Weeks turned into months, months turned into three years  of Sehun staying over, going on cute little dates and pretending to be a couple. But they both knew that's not what they were. After Sehun insisted on cleaning every night until he was blue in the face, he would disappear and arrive back at nine on the dot the next morning. Chanyeol would have pancakes laid out and a first aid kit by his side. He'd always sit back smiling at him with a new carving marking a new day. Sure it was broken, but so were they.

 

It was going so well, so well until Chanyeol just had to open his big goddamn mouth. Until he just had to pry because his worry wasn't letting him sleep and he was running out of disinfection wipes. He just had to break first. "Where do you always go Sehun? I'm so sick of this, I'm sick of all of this,"  Sehun had merely turned and stared at first, not quite a glare but not quite mindless, waiting. 

 

"Why am I not enough for you Sehun? Please stop painting, I'll be your canvas instead just please-" Before Chanyeol could get to the end of his sentence Sehun had slammed the door. Three years gone because Chanyeol couldn't keep his feelings in check. He still hoped though. He still sat staring at the door three years later. Waiting, always waiting. His friends called him crazy, he called himself crazy. But he was lost, ever so lost and Sehun was his freedom. 

 

\-----

 

For the first time that night Chanyeol looked him straight in the eye and spoke without hesitation.

 

"You were a painting I couldn't afford, but I like to think you are the only painting I'll ever understand." 

 

This time the world did stop, maybe it always had, maybe he was just too lost to notice. 

 

"I wasn't enough for you Hunnie, but neither is he. Please just - find someone who isn't lost they can keep the loneliness out. I'm sorry I wasn't enough Oh Sehun." 

 

Sehun was the first to break eye contact, the first to cowar back to reality.

 

 “Chanyeol, he's good for me. He's good for me, don't you think I look pretty in blue Hyung?”

 

With that, Chanyeol tumbled out rather embarrassingly that is, if he was sober enough to notice. All he knows is that he's finally lost it all and the motorway looks like a pretty fun playground.

 

Ooh Sehun didn't deserve to be happy. Park Chanyeol didn't want to be happy.


End file.
